


To Love a Dragon

by Unyeilding (siberia_eva)



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-01-31 16:04:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18594694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siberia_eva/pseuds/Unyeilding
Summary: Energy could never be lost.The old gods turned to dragons.The Creators and Fallen Ones were only temporarily locked away.Wisdom turned to Pride.Justice turned to Vengeance.Compassion turned into Envy.Contentment turned into Sloth.Joy turned into Desire.Sorrow turned into Despair.But what of love.What of the woman, who loved the man who became a God. He died, his essence turned to a dragon for the darkspawn to hunt. But she . . . She was the woman who tamed the God. Who served him. Who loved him.Her spirit of faith, compassion, trust, joy, of love. It was so strong. It had to live on.It wasn't fated that they would meet again, it was magnetism. It had to happen. The sea had to swell, the sun had to burn bright, the stars needed to shine.She needed to be his love.And he would always love her in return.What if Corypheus dragon was a dormant Dumat who had no more will. What if his past love met him again. What if . . .





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I love to listen to music while I write. I found this graphic embedded in the music I like to listen to. It inspired this story.
> 
> It's weird, I know. That's okay, it's never been done, that I know of, so please let me know if you like the direction it's going in.

[Inspiration](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K5EucKJ91No)

 

Energy could never be lost.

The old gods turned to dragons.

The Creators and Fallen Ones were only temporarily locked away.

Wisdom turned to Pride.

Justice turned to Vengeance.

Compassion turned into Envy.

Contentment turned into Sloth.

Joy turned into Desire.

Sorrow turned into Despair.

But what of love.

What of the woman, who loved the man who became a God. He died, his essence turned to a dragon for the darkspawn to hunt. But she . . . She was the woman who tamed the God. Who served him. Who loved him.

Her spirit of faith, compassion, trust, joy, of love. It was so strong. It had to live on.

It wasn't fated that they would meet again, it was magnetism. It had to happen. The sea had to swell, the sun had to burn bright, the stars needed to shine.

She needed to be his love.

And he would always love her in return.

That was something no one, not even the Elvhen Gods or the Tevinter worshipers could understand, let alone stop.

 

***

 

Anastas was warm in Dearans arms. He always held her thus. They had feasted on each other’s flesh and passion and were content in their bliss.

“They will make you chose a bride on the morrow.” She told him.

“I will choose you.” He said back to her.

“You cannot.” She was filled with sorrow, but it was the truth. “I do not hold the noble blood that they will demand my lord.”

“I do not care. You are my love. You are my life. I cannot hold another the way I hold you.

His words brought her joy and light, even as they brought her torment.

“It is the way.”  A single tear rolled down her cheek, “It has always been the way, and it will always be the way.”

He grew angry. His silence was loud, as it always was. Dearan was always thus.

“They cannot force this on me.” His voice was sure and proud. “I have imparted much on them. I brought them dreams, and taught the best to bend such to their will.”

“My lord, my love.” Ana sighed, “It is because of this that they ask more.” More tears, for she could not help herself, “It is because of this that they deserve more.”

Silence, as he was known for. On a normal night, she would not wish to fill it, but with the morrow filling her gaze, she must.

“It is because of this that you **_deserve_** more.”

“Do I not deserve what I wish?”

He kissed her. He licked into her mouth as she opened it to moan. He could always undo her. Anastas loved him. She loved him more than her country, more than her family, more than her very life. She would do anything and everything for him. But could she stand by and watch him throw a future away that would be the best for their homeland? Could she be so selfish? Could she allow him to be so selfish?

She would never find out.

“You do.” Was all she said.

She need not have said more.

The next day, he refused consort after consort. He refused the magic wielders. He refused all.

When the Elders finally asked him who he would choose, the beat of her heart, the very breath of her lungs, told them.

“I have only half a soul, only half a life, without my Anastas.”

He reached for her. Her heart was soaring. The wings were strong. Her being flew on the strong wings of the griffon.

He chose her.

And she chose him.

She would go to him. She would give him everything, and anything.

The whole world stopped to look as she ascended the dais to be at his side.

No person could have foretold it. But all storytellers could have predicted it.

It was four.

Four arrows from three different directions that cut her down.

Perhaps it was jealousy, perhaps it was political. It didn’t matter.

“No!” Dearan screamed.

He raced to her side.

He had much magic at his disposal, but none of it could save her.

She was poisoned. She was dying.

All she wanted was to erase the hurt from his eyes.

“I love you. I will love you forever.”

“I will love no other.” His whispers were fervent and full of pain.

“You will live on. Be the person I know you are.” Her voice was struggling, breath was hard in her lungs. “I will find you again.” She could do no more than gasp, her body a mountain's weight. “We will be together.”

“No one will know me until you are with me again. I will be silence. I vow it.” One tear, heavy with remorse and regret trailed his cheeks, “The Maker will rue the day he allowed this to pass. I will stop him. If I have to tear into the Golden City itself, he will know the same pain that I feel.”

“Do not become . . . what . . . you . . . hate.”

This was her last plea. Her last breath. She wanted him to find joy. To find happiness.

But it would not come to pass.

Not for thousands of years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It will be clearer in the next chapter where this is going.
> 
> Hopefully.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can she feel?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sure hopes this makes sense. I am pretty intoxicated right now.

Anastasha Lavellen never felt right, to begin with, so she wasn’t surprised when she woke up to deranged shems telling her what was wrong with her.

She sympathized; she really did. The death of loved ones was never easy, and if there was a way, she could ease the pain and suffering, she would.

But there wasn’t. She couldn’t make people feel better.

But she could close rifts and she could help the cause.

She didn’t really know why she did it. Everything felt distant. She wanted to make people feel good, to feel better. But she never could.

She always felt, sort of hollow. In her clan, all through her life. She saw people happy and didn’t quite understand it.

It wasn’t like she didn’t feel. She loved the Halla, cared for them, protected them. She loved the children. Refused to let harm happen to them.

But she never connected to her gods or her keeper.

Choosing a Vallaslin was impossible. She would never admit it, but it wasn’t blind faith that determined the of Falon’Din covering her face, chest, and thighs. It wasn’t that she had an affinity for the dead, it was that she felt the weight of them.

There was a part of her that knew death had or will claim a part of her. And if she could be close to the god that could be closer to it, then that was okay.

It never felt completely right, but she cared too much about the people around her to not go through the ritual.

As she was now, surrounded by strangers, it felt no different than when she was with her clan. Though her life should have been filled with joy all she felt was loss.

She thought the templars could help her. But even Compassion could not seem to reach her, though he tried.

She closed the breach, but the victory felt hollow. Other than the pain in her hand, the stretched through the very bone of her left arm, she felt nothing.

It wasn’t new, this lack of feeling. But over the last few years, it had been getting worse. She wanted to celebrate, she wanted to be happy. But she felt like a piece of herself was missing.

They were attacked.

She couldn’t help but care about the people who surrounded her. It was her nature.

Sometimes she would give so much of herself, that there was nothing left for days. She knew she would give until she died. What else was there?

She fought as hard as she could. She fought for the people. She fought for her temporary home. But then she felt.

The moment was so abrupt, she almost fell from it.

There were gasps all around her as if they felt it too. But what they felt and what she felt was different.

A cursed dragon flew overhead. It destroyed the battlements.

But something about it destroyed the emptiness she seemed to always feel.

They were pulling her away. She followed out of an odd sense of self-preservation, though it felt wrong to be running.

She jumped at the chance to go out and face it once again.

She couldn’t think, couldn’t begin to diagnose the causes for what she felt. Because she did. She felt.

After the platform she was standing on was destroyed with dragon fire, she could feel one word in her head.

“NO!”

She was slightly disoriented after the blow to her head. But she knew that she heard it.

“IT CANNOT BE!”

She knew nothing else but to stand up in the face of the voice.

There was a being and he was bemoaning his loss, or whatever, but Ana couldn’t hear it. She could only stare at the beast behind the beast.

She had never seen a dragon up close before, let alone a blighted one.

She felt sorry for it.

He was full of power; he was full of might. But she could sense it, how much, he was full of pain. Nothing Corypheus had done to this point instilled in her the mighty wrath, that what he had done to this beautiful being did.

Locked by the gaze of a dragon, poisoned by red lyrium, she could not focus on what was being said by the semi-man.

“I MUST OBEY! I HAVE NO CHOICE!”

Part of her knew these were the thoughts of the dragon, but part of her felt, these were the thoughts of a man.

“ANA, I HAVE LIVED THOUSANDS OF YEARS TO SEE YOU AGAIN! I WILL BE GRATEFUL IF ALL I HAVE IS THIS MOMENT!”

As the man-beast grabbed her arm in his hand and held her aloft, she let a tear shed. Though she felt pain, that wasn’t what made her cry.

“I CANNOT DISOBEY, BUT I WILL DO AS MUCH AS I CAN! IT IS KILLING ME TO SEE HIM HURT YOU!”

The dragon roared loudly to the skies. But Anastasha knew.

She was only the smallest threat, but the dragon carried his master away. She ran, she had to survive. She had to live.

It was Dumat. And she knew him. She didn’t know how, but she knew him. And he allowed her to feel.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashbacks?

Anastasha walked through the blistering cold. She always hated the cold.

She walked.

She survived.

‘I know him.’

‘I feel him.’

‘How?’

She woke in a tent, sore and exhausted.

Feelings had been awoken in her that she had never expected. She had always cared, especially for those who couldn’t fight for themselves. A fighter she always was, and she would fight for those who couldn’t.

That is what the inquisition meant for her.

She would fight for the mages who didn’t earn ruination.

She would fight for the Templars who gave there all but were abused and devastated.

She would fight for the farmers who lost everything to infighting around them that had nothing to do with them.

She would fight for the elves like her who had nothing.

She would fight for the elves not like her, who were prideful but still didn’t deserve the death and glares that always seemed to come their way.

She would fight for the people who had more hope than she did.

She stared at them, singing for the hope that she brought them. She would fight to honor that hope.

And she would fight the bitter wind, and the cold indifference that came from Corypheus.

But not for them.

For him.

She knew him.

He let her feel.

And she would find out why.

Solas took her aside and told her his plans. She was obviously distracted, and he called her on it.

“Herald?”

“Ugh, could you, of all people, not call me that. I know perfectly well that you know I am not the Herald of Andraste. So, let’s not be coy.”

She looked at him. Saw the weight of ages staring back at her for a moment.

_‘Can you not free him?’_

_‘I cannot lethallin. I would, for you, but they would all be released’_

_‘I try to understand, but would they not all be able to be saved?’_

_‘They were not all like your Dearan. They were not all twisted by others into what they are.’_

_I cried. I did understand. ‘Fen’Harel, isa’ma’lin, you did not choose this either. Are you not also being twisted?’_

_‘I see it, I know it is happening. But I have searched for thousands of years for any other choice. I have seen none.’_

_‘I know. Ar lath ma.’_

_They pressed their foreheads together. They did love each other. A friendship forged in blood but bonded in pain and loss._

_“I will not let you lose yourself. I will be there to pull you back from what they are trying to make you into.’_

_‘I pray that’s true, asa’ma’lin.’ He looked despondent, ‘I pray that’s true.’_

Ana stumbled, landing in the snow.

Solas reached down to pick her up.

“What . . .” She was so confused didn’t even know what to ask. But she knew she needed to. “Was it true?”

He brushed the hair from her face, tawny strands slid through his fingers as he tucked them behind her elegantly pointed ear.

“You are too young for it to start.” He sighed and pulled her into his arms. It felt too right. It wasn’t the same feeling as when she saw Him, but it was more . . . something.

They gazed at each other; the silence comfortable, warm, familiar.

“Can you trust me. Let us get to a safe place for our bodies to rest, and we will speak.”

She didn’t know why, but she did, she trusted him more than anyone she had ever known. It was strange to feel that way. She did not know him. But something was pulling her.

“I trust you.” She didn’t know why, but it felt so right to pull him closer, to hold him and let him hold her.

She had more flashes as they journeyed to Tarasyl'an Te'las. She had a sense that she had been there before.

_‘It is done asa’ma’lin.’_

_‘I know, isa. Ar lath ma.’_

_‘It was not supposed to be this way.’_

_‘It was the only way. One day you will sleep for a time, and you will awake. I will be there.’_

_‘It will not be the same.’_

_‘Not at first.’ She was so weak, she needed to finish. ‘I am ena’las’sathe sal. Bring me here. I will remember.’_

_‘Ar dirtha'var'en.’_

It was nothing for her to feign exhaustion to her the other members of the inquisition. She was. But it wasn’t physical, it was mental. She had only a vague idea of what was happening. She needed to learn more Elvhen to understand fully.

The strange thing was, she felt like she knew it. She counted on meeting with Solas as soon as she could.

She would fight. She would always fight.

She would ascertain what was happening. And she would save . . . Him!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will translate it later. If Ana doesn't know it, then you can't either.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holy Shit

Annatasha shook her head in an attempt to clear the cobwebs.

They made her inquisitor. Fine then. She would do it. She would do what she could.

She decided to talk to all her team before seeking out Solas. They were good people. All of them in their own way. She didn’t necessarily like them all, but she respected them for different reasons. They all brought her some of the emotion that, until recently, she couldn’t seem to find on her own.

The Iron Bull brought her philosophy, but more than that he helped her with humility.

Blackwall brought her bravery. It wasn’t the absence of fear but continuing regardless of the fear.

Sera brought her realism. Even if she didn’t go about showing it the same way, Ana would always remember it was about the people.

Cole brought her compassion. Not that she didn’t care, but now she could imagine what others could be feeling.

Dorian brought her hope. The hope for a better world, the chance to make it so. For someone in as much emotional pain as he was in, to still care, to still hope. That was something.

Cassandra brought her faith. Not faith in absent gods, but faith in those she chose to surround herself with.

Vivienne brought her subtlety. Everything didn’t have to be grand gestures and closing rifts. The smallest reactions could be a tell.

Varric brought her laughter. It was slightly artificial, she knew he knew it too, but it didn’t matter. He still made her laugh.

Josephine brought her dignity. She could hold her head up high. Had no reason to be ashamed for who she was.

Leliana brought her ferocity. Ana saw glimpses of softness in the woman and wanted to encourage that side of her. She never wanted to feel like she had to be so fierce that she lost herself.

Cullen brought her strength. He was so strong. He had so much pain, regret, and grief. But he was so strong through it all. She knew she could do it too.

Solas, he brought her many things. A strange sort of comfort, but also fear. Fear of the past, fear of what she already suspected she knew. He brought her peace, but also remorse. Like there should have been something more. He brought her joy. But also sorrow, there were times she looked at him from afar and wanted to weep.

She wanted to cry for what she didn’t know he lost. But she knew he lost; she knew she lost too.

It was now time to find out.

“Ah, is it to be my turn now?” He asked her playfully.

“Well, I had to save the best for last.” She teased.

“I heard that you know.” A voice called from above. “and I must say that I find your taste somewhat lacking.”

“Well, then I guess I shouldn’t admit that you’re my favorite Shem. I would hate for my less than discerning taste to rub off on any others.” Ana decided at that moment that it was true. It made her smile.

Solas chuckled softly enough for only her ears.

“Do continue, dahling. I shan’t interrupt you again.”

“Shall we find somewhere more private?” She asked Solas while still giggling at Dorian. She paused. Ana had never giggled in her life.

“Yes, we should, asa’.”

He guided her to an area under the main hall. She stopped just before he did. She inhaled sharply and looked around.

“I know this place.”

“Oh, and how would you know it?”

She didn’t ignore him, but she didn’t answer. She didn’t know. But she walked to a section of the wall that looked slightly different than most. She looked back to Solas to see a soft yet sad smile on his face.

She raised her palm to the wall, not the left, with the mark on it, but with the right. She could feel the strength in the stone. Instinct led her; she released a small flux of magic into the stone.

She felt it respond. For a moment she was so happy, she could feel a single tear trail down her cheek. It was brushed away by the stale wash of air that was pushed out from the magically sealed library.

“It’s still here.” She ran her hands on the shelves, not ready to disturb the spells that kept the tomes in perfect condition. “Did you protect it for me isa’ma’lin?”

“Could I do no less?” He came behind her and laid his hands on her shoulders. She let her right hand cover his left.

“What did I call you?” She knew, she just didn’t know why or know how she knew.

“Brother.”

She turned toward him so quickly that he had no choice but to drop his arms. It hurt to see her this way. So lost, so unlike the woman he knew.

“Will you show me Fen?”

“I will, but you will not thank me for it.”

“Not right away, but I will in time.”

“Yes, in time.”

She could see the sadness and hope both in his face. But there was also fear.

“Ma enfenim, enas har’geal?” (Why are you afraid?)

“Ar enfenim, geal mah ma ju’em sul ahn ar emalath.” (I fear your hatred for my actions [very roughly translated])

“Tel’enfenim, isa’ma’lin.” (Never fear me, brother.)

Solas sat on the floor and drew Ana into his arms.

“Theneras, vhenan ma’lin. Ara ma’athlan vhenas.” (Dream now, heart of my blood. I will call you home.)

He cast a sleeping spell and brought her into the fade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you see it coming?
> 
> Has anyone guessed what ena’las’sathe sal means?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The past, the fade, fuck it hurts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know my timeline is wrong, but I don't really care. :P

Annastasha was in the fade, she knew she was. But things felt so real.

It was her. She watched herself, barefaced and happy. She was with him. She knew him. It was Dearan. It was Dumat. It was her love.

Her heart was full to bursting. She was witnessing her own love from an outsiders perspective. He was gentle and caring, he was rough and demanding. He asked for everything from her and she gave it willingly. But he also gave everything in return.

She watched with torment as he was shown perspective bride after bride.

She watched with joy as he refused them all.

Her heart leaped with elation when he called her to him.

Then, as she watched it, she remembered.

She called to him, desperate for him to save her. He could not. They shared their final goodbye.

She watched what he became, what they made him become. He was true to his word. He suffered in silence. He ruled in silence. He took women to his bed, never the same one. He married and did his duty in silence. He slowly changed from the Dearan she knew into the Dumat that Tevinter needed.

He carved out amazing things for their country, barely speaking, and only to his high priest. He gave what his country demanded. He taught dangerous magics and helped them harness the power of their dreams.

She watched as he searched for her killers. She watched as he found them and destroyed the whole city. Barindur was covered in ash, no one to live again.

She watched as he was true to his word and stormed the Golden City, the seat of the Maker.

She watched as a bargain was struck. His love would live again. She would be ena’las’sathe sal, one who is born again, but she would never know love or peace until they were reunited. In exchange for this boon, the Maker would curse Dumat and his like with sickness. The sickness would ravage the world over and over again until his gift grew to its fruition, and all pieces of Thedas were put together again.

She watched as the form of his high priest took on Corypheus’ ghastly shape, and she watched as her beloved and the other mage ‘gods’ turned into large wing’ed beasts. The first dragons, beautiful and deadly. The other priests that had trekked with them turned into ravaging monsters, mindless and ferocious.

She watched her beloved turn to stone. The ‘gods’ of Tevinter were all turned to stone, separated, and hidden away, waiting to be awoken by the very beasts the Maker created in their bargain.

She wept, what had he become, what had he wrought. It hurt her heart.

She was born once more. A quick life, never finding joy, never being happy. She was born with magic and the superstitions of the people who raised her killed her when she was a youngling. In an attempt to drown the magic away she was held under the water too long for her little body to come back.

New life, new breath. New family. This is when she saw Solas. He was arrogant and vain, truly earning his name of Pride.  But she reached him.

She was named Anna’athim, to bring humility. They were siblings meant to balance each other. They lived together in peace for many years. Thousands of them.

It took Anna so many of them to help Solas realize that enslaving their own people was wrong. They were powerful, but they were not gods.

She was over a thousand years old when she started to remember. She panicked thinking herself bewitched by one of the others.

Solas took her through the fade, and her lives before had been unlocked. He tried to reunite her with her beloved, but it would only release all of the forgotten ones.

“I would return him to you if I could asa’.” He told her many times.

“I know you would isa’. I know.” Her heart was always heavy.

When their brethren started to become more and more power hungry, they knew they had to protect their people. They knew they had to do something to lock them away.

They left Arlathan together and together they created Tarasyl’an Te’las, a place to hold back those who would be gods.

It took many years to prepare and Anna took comfort in her library.

“It is the only way.” She was arguing with him again.

“I cannot, you cannot ask me to do this.”

“They killed Mythal, the best of us. Do you not think they will kill me too?”

“They can try.” He growled.

“And what is pride without humility. Could you do this without me?”

He sighed in defeat. “No, I cannot.”

“You will lock your power away in your orb, and you will use mine to separate the ones who would be gods from their power. It must be done.”

“You will die.”

“I am ena’las’sathe sal, I will live again. And you will seek Uthenera. We will be together again.”

“So it must be.” The regret and pain were deep in his voice.

“One day, isa’, we will be reunited, and we will find joy.”

Watching the power leaving her body a wilted flower, was trying. But worse, was witnessing her brother weep.

He wept for those they lost, he wept for what was done, and he wept for what he still would do.

He didn’t just seal the others away. He ensured they could not come back by creating a barrier between magic and land. He could never have known what the result would be.

Magic became a fragile and rare thing.

The elvhen who survived the infighting were enslaved.

Anna felt the tears fall down her cheeks as she watched her brother find the long sleep hoping for a better tomorrow.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First I have to say, I'm sorry I haven't updated in forever. Also, all of my stories are taking a small hiatus because I will be moving soon and don't know how long it will take me to get internet. So I am trying really hard to get them all updated before then. Unfortunately my muse is hiding away.
> 
> Second, I am posting this story pretty raw with not much editing and zero betaing. It is a little all over the place but I really want to get it all out. (I really should write the whole story out before posting it, but I live too much for comments and kudos.)
> 
> Last, I fully know that I have the timeline messed up in this fic. Arlathan happens before the old gods in Tevinter, but inspiration hit me in between chapters so IDC, It's not the only thing I am going to mess with in the Dragon Age world.

Anna flitted through the fade, she danced across dreams and memories that were not her own. She saw her homeland rise again off the ashes of the one place she truly loved.

She saw the torments of her people as they were destroyed. She saw the Maker raise up a profit in an effort to regain a sense of balance. She saw as he let her fall.

She saw memories of elves and shems alike, worlds of stories. She saw the Dalish skewing history until it became so much untruth. She was ashamed for her people, blindly following beings that were not gods, but only power-hungry nobles enslaving their own. She was glad that she had no connection to her vallaslin and would remove it as soon as she woke.

She thought for a moment that Dorian would be surprised at the similarities between their homeland and Arlathan. Both places a part of her.

Then she saw her brother awaken.

He had not had the time she did to see what the veil had created. He mourned.

She watched as he called out to her. He tried repeatedly to find her in the fade.

When he did, he watched over her.

Anna followed him as he found someone powerful enough to lead to his orb. He could not unlock it. He found the piece of Mythal. She told him he would have to wait years to retrieve his strength before unlocking it. They planned together. They would re-open the veil, destroy this world and created a new one for their people once more. She would have her revenge for her murder, and he would undo his mistake.

Anna watched in horror as her brother sought out someone powerful enough to unlock his foci. He couldn’t have known. There was no way to know that the being obvious enough to choose, had also enslaved his sisters Vhenan.

There was no way to know that unlocking the orb would create a massive explosion, so he crept into the dreams of her keeper. He ensured his Anna would come to him, and they could finish what they started together.

He didn’t know, and he could have been calling her to her doom. He didn’t know, and he could have destroyed the other half of his soul. He didn’t know, he still didn’t know.

But Anna did. Anna saw with the eyes of many lifetimes. She knew. She would help him like she always said she would.

She would save the world, and she would change it.

Pride and Humility would rule as it was meant to.

Not from the top, but from inside.


End file.
